


Kisses

by orphan_account



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Drabble, M/M, One Shot, Painful Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-08
Updated: 2011-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s fascinated with kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> \--super old fic. kink meme post for Heroes fandom on LiveJournal.

He’s obsessed with intimate touches, though he’s too timid to ask for them.

Sylar notices it the first time they do more than just fuck (much more; there is beauty and cadence behind each stroke, each touch, each nudge; it’s more that just an act, it’s a dance). Luke’s face is looking up at him, head on his chest, staring, that innocent puppy-dog stare still in his eyes, and he can tell the boy wants a kiss.

He’s fascinated with kisses.

Luke loves to watch the killer’s lips touch his skin, and every time they do he feels special, wanted, needed. It’s like his own personal way of telling Luke he loves him, without ever saying the words. He watches Sylar kiss up his torso through half-lidded eyes that close as his own cold, torn and tattered lips touch Sylar’s warm, soft, whole ones.

He needs them to survive.

It’s easy enough to ignore the boy, or to keep him happy with little trinkets for the time being, but when it really counts Sylar knows the ways to truly reciprocate. A strong arm over his, a close hug; a small, secret, personal lesson - little gestures that he would show no other. It sets Luke’s mind at ease, and keeps his tears and fears away - and his screams, always his screams. If he’s happy, he’s quiet, no matter how badly the sex hurts, and as much as Sylar loves hearing his voice hoarse, the motel walls are only so thick…

He’s lost so much, and they all feel like little gains.

Even with blood pouring down his face, Luke still appreciates the nuances. Pain’s numbing and his thoughts and heartbeats are slowing and for that he’s grateful. _Eventually it had to come to this, right…?_ he wonders, his mind wandering in the last seconds of his life. _He’s a serial killer, kills for power, and mine is special. Special…_ His time is up, but he’s not crying (the only tears on his face have dried under all the blood), he’s not screaming or pleading or cursing. Emotions melt away and he’s just peaceful, a little smile on his lips.

The last thing he knows is a kiss, and there’s no other way he could have wanted it.


End file.
